


Quietly into the night

by MagikalWordHerald



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7357057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagikalWordHerald/pseuds/MagikalWordHerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are not the inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quietly into the night

There were swords, and they were loud. Metal screaming as they slid down one another, in hopes that this battle would not be there last. Shield against shield in vain, begging that they shall not be the ones to give.  
Blood sticking to the mud and grass, feeding soil its riches, swearing to the skies as the green burning lights gave blinded eyes no hope, silence and noise of death eating away at the deep roars of rotten men.

Your fears have become your waking nightmare. You fight in the darkness, in swamp lands of the Fallow Mire, following what they call a chosen one, someone touched by the divine. Perhaps the insanity of your life, the way you lived, the horrors you endured before they arrived have made you foolish to pick up a sword. Perhaps your mother was right.  
“Stay home child. The long night is not safe and I fear for you.”  
The night is not safe. Nor is following in the wake of the one they swear will save you. Save your family. Save the world.

You heard the tales, you saw the green rips in the sky, and you ran from a monster of the Fade for Divines sake. Why are you here now then? Struggling up hill, hoping to catch up to those you saw in the distance, those with fire and strength enough to bring down all who oppose them? Why do you follow in there muddy foot prints, stabbing at those dead men who escaped their gaze?   
Why?

A screech, more inhuman than the last is heard close to you. Your battered wooden shield passed down to you by a poor man in a market for bread, lifts up to block an arrow.   
You have fought before. You have won before. But you haven’t faced this before. You haven’t faced the dead, or the fade, or the Darkspawn or even a mage for that matter. So why do you believe you could possibly help change the fate better than the one chosen to do so?  
Who are you but no one?

Your raise your sword as you blindly sprint in fear towards the hollowed out archer. The blow lands solidly. You hit again and again till it’s down, you cannot tell what it once was. You look down at your feet, its arm twitches and you feel the bile in your throat. But you swallow.

Something... something is burning in your heart. Something aches. You think it’s your calling pushing you. You believe its destiny singing its fiery song in your chest. You look down.  
It’s an arrow.  
You smile sadly, and die quietly in the night.


End file.
